


I'm No Angel, I'm Just Me

by Dark_Angel23



Category: Merlin (TV), White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Federal Agents, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - White Collar Fusion, America-Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Evil Uther Pendragon (Merlin), F/M, Fake Character Death, Federal Bureau of Investigation, M/M, New York City, Not Really Character Death, POV Alternating, POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), POV Merlin (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:47:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28828401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Angel23/pseuds/Dark_Angel23
Summary: Arthur Pendragon hadn't expected ever to regret working for the FBI, but then he hadn't taken Merlin Ambrosius into account.****Arthur was quite happy with his life, thank you very much. He had a loving girlfriend, a stable job many people coveted for, and friends who always had his back.That is, until someone from his past turned up again.His whole life was then turned upside down, forcing him to redefine his sense of right and wrong, get to know more about his supposedly late father than he ever wanted to, all while trying to keep his growing feelings for his criminal friend a secret.****The White Collar fusion AU no one asked for. (Can be read even if you haven't watched the show)
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Leon/Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Endlessly by The Cab
> 
> Clarification- None of the painters, artists, paintings or anything else is real. I was too lazy to do research on actual artists, so none of them in here really existed. If they did, it's a coincidence. I also don't know anything about the intricacies of forensic analysis, so don't go around mixing gold and dodo blood in blue paint.

_“Goodbye, Merlin.”_

The day Merlin had chosen to break out of prison had dawned bright and sunny. He decided to think of it as a good omen.

_Snip, snip._

Thin black strands of hair floated down the air and into the sink, staying there like an oil spill on the ocean. Merlin looked up in the mirror.

_Good enough._

He picked up the makeshift razor, and flicked it twice to get rid of the excess water. Taking in a deep breath, he ran it across his cheek and his chin. More strands of hair floated down. 

Repeating the process a few more times, he shaved off the beard which had been growing in the past few weeks; turning him from Prisoner 342 back to Merlin Ambrosius, former conman and art forger, the best in the field.

But alas, his heyday was years ago.

Three years, 8 months, and 23 days, to be exact. It was also the time when he had been caught. Though convicted only of bond forgery, he was also suspected of various other crimes, but there hadn’t been any conclusive evidence to convict him.

A small victory. He had still ended up in prison.

He tossed his razor in the sink, pulling out a ziploc bag from the toilet tank. Inside was a dark blue uniform, an exact replica of the ones the guards wore. He pulled it on. Giving himself a last look in the mirror, he wet his hands and ran them through his hair, pushing back the curly locks into place. He cringed. They were, he decided, extremely unfashionable. But unfortunately, he didn’t have a choice. Prison didn't exactly have decent barbers.

Or any, really.

Steeling his resolve, he pushed open the door of the staff bathroom open, walking out with confidence he did not feel. But that was the point. Act like you are supposed to be there, and no one will question you. No time to think about the consequences. They will just hinder.

He walked across corridors and around corners, nodding to his fellow guards whenever necessary. He went through the metal workshop, the sound of scraping metal piercing the air. When he reached the cellblock, a line of orange-clothed prisoners were marching back from the Yard to their cells.

And to think, he was one of them yesterday. 

And he might be again, if he didn’t play his cards properly.

_Freya._

If he didn’t do this, he would lose her, possibly forever.

At last, he reached a mesh door, the last obstacle he would have to pass before he was out. Pulling out a makeshift security pass he had made from a cassette and a utility card, he swiped it against the machine beside the door. He watched in apprehension as it read the card.

The light blinked green, and the gate opened. He let out a relieved breath.

He tried stepping through, but the guard outside caught the door, giving him a once over.

Merlin’s heart caught in his throat. He didn’t let it show. It was one the first lessons he had learnt. 

A moment later, the guard let him go. Merlin shot him a smile.

He stepped out, and breathed on the fresh air. It felt different, knowing that he wouldn’t be called inside any time soon.

But he wasn’t free, not yet.

Jogging over to the parking lot, he glanced over the irregular assortment of cars. Finally choosing a green pickup truck, he made his way over to it. It was innocuous, yet a statement. Exactly what he wanted. 

He made short work of unlocking it, and when he was inside, he pried open the panel under the steering wheel and picked out two wires, stripping them with his teeth and rubbing them together. The engine roared to life.

Merlin grinned, he still had it.

He pulled out a cassette from a pocket, and placed it in the dock. Fast paced yet subdued music poured out, setting the mood. He set off.

* * *

Merlin browsed through the collection of jackets on the fence, the shopkeeper looking at him expectantly. It was high noon, and he was on the outskirts of New York City. A car whizzed past behind him, upsetting a toddler in a stroller nearby, sending him into a fit. Wails filled the air.

Finally choosing a bright yellow windbreaker, he tried it on. 

“Only 5 dollars.” The shopkeeper told him, holding up the same amount of fingers to drive the point home.

“I can give you three.” Merlin replied, shooting him one of his more charming smiles, holding up the notes he had salvaged from the dashboard of the truck, which was now parked a few blocks away.

The shopkeeper shrugged.

* * *

Merlin watched the scene before him like a hawk, picking out who was to be his next victim. An elderly man drove up in a convertible, his wife beside him.

Perfect.

He jogged up to him when he parked, his windbreaker whipping behind him. More men in similar outfits were milling around, and no one gave him a second look. They all assumed he was another valet.

The man got out, handing him the keys and clapping him on the back. “Take good care of her,” He said. “I’ll be back in a month.” Merlin nodded. He had no intention of doing so. It was an airport after all, and he doubted that the man would even remember his face by the time he realised his car was gone. Or maybe it would be returned before then. You never know.

Exhilaration filled him up as he crossed the Brooklyn Bridge in the stolen convertible, the wind threading through his hair and caressing his face. He let loose a laugh.

* * *

* * *

Arthur had never felt more stressed in his life.

Okay, maybe that was a lie, seeing that he was an FBI agent and stressed was probably his middle name by now, but it certainly felt like it. This was the first proper lead he had gotten in months, and he wanted to make sure it went well.

“Drop 5.” A sound came out from the vault. A man was standing with an ear on the door, rotating a dial with one hand and the other spread out on the metal, feeling for any sign of a trap. A hole had been drilled above him, a flexible camera snaked in. The image was projected on a laptop screen outside the vault, showing a group of bolts which were being closely monitored by another person.

The man rotated the dial again. Another bolt slid back. “Drop 6.”

Arthur hummed his acknowledgement, his brow furrowed.

One last rotation. “Drop 4.”

Arthur frowned. “5,6,4,” He muttered. Something was wrong. The man was opening the door.

“No! Stop!” Arthur yelled, but it was too late. A cloud of mustard-coloured gas burst forth, engulfing the whole crew in a foul smelling cloud.

Sulfur.

Arthur cursed and rushed in the vault, pulling the safe-cracker out. Coughs rang through the air.

“What happened?” The safe-cracker asked.

Arthur let loose an incredulous laugh. “What happened?!” He echoed. “I said stop! You didn’t stop!”

“How did you know this will happen?” Someone asked. Elyan, by the sound of it. The air was still hazy.

Arthur shook his head. “Who all went to Harvard here?” He asked. “Don’t raise your hands.” He added, when people did.

He knew this was wrong, he shouldn’t let out his frustrations on his people like that. But this was his first lead to catch the Enigma in months, and it had slipped right through his fingers.

“How did he know we were here?” He asked aloud.

His men were saved from answering by the arrival of Morgana, the only woman on his immediate team. The expression on her face told him that she didn’t bring good news. She stepped up to him.

“It’s Ambrosius. He’s escaped.”

It took a moment for the name to sink in. It had been four years since he had heard it last, and didn’t really expect to do so again. But it was Merlin for you. Utterly unpredictable.

Arthur cursed. Out loud this time.

* * *

“Why me?” Arthur asked, hurrying along the marble floor of the ground floor of the FBI headquarters, Morgana walking beside him, her heels clicking.

“Perhaps because you are the only one who ever caught him.” She answered, brushing something off his shoulder. Flakes of some kind of dark blue paint had covered his suit in the explosion, but couldn’t be bothered to clean it. He had much more important things on his mind.

“Bloody hell.” Arthur muttered, increasing his pace.

* * *

“He came out of the staff bathroom dressed in a guard’s uniform. Probably brought online.” Someone was speaking behind him, but most of Arthur’s attention was on the way to Merlin’s cell. _Former_ cell.

“How did he get his hands on the money?”

“No idea. I think someone sneaked it in.”

“Hmm.” The cell was just a few meters ahead, and he quickened his pace and entered it. It was messy, with sketches plastered all over the walls and a bunch of books and pamphlets littering the small bed. Arthur picked one up. It was a handbook on truck maintenance. A pamphlet fell out. Valet jobs at the airport.

The warden was looking at him, looking like he didn’t know what to do. “He shaved his beard,” He burst out, not knowing what else to say. Arthur’s head shot up.

“Merlin doesn’t have a beard.”

The warden shrugged. “He did.”

“I need surveillance. As back as it goes.”

The warden nodded, and started leading the way to the surveillance room. Arthur followed.

“They photograph the prisoners every morning before they leave their cells,” The warden told him, while Arthur was peering intently at the screen. Merlin Ambrosious was pacing around, a black beard covering the bottom half of his face. It was decidedly unattractive.

“I hardly recognise him,” Arthur muttered.

“I think that was the point.”

Arthur straightened. “Why did he stop shaving?” He wondered aloud. “Rewind the video,” He told the operator. He did so.

Arthur watched the screen intently, flashes of pictures running across it. “There!” He exclaimed, and the operator stopped the rewind, the screen now showing a clean-shaven Merlin sitting morosely on the bed. Arthur checked the time stamp. It showed a date from a few weeks before. “That’s when he stopped shaving. Find out what happened that day.”

The warden and operator shared uneasy looks. Arthur had forgotten that this wasn’t his team. They won’t know what exactly he wanted.

“Get me the logbook,” He said at last. He warden picked up a heavy volume from the back of the room and handed it to him. He flipped to the page corresponding to the date when Merlin had stopped shaving.

“There it is,” The warden said, pointing out an entry in the book. “Merlin Ambrosius.”

“He had one visitor that day. Freya Baston. Pull up the feed.”

The operator did so, and Arthur took his earlier place leaning beside him.

“No audio?” He asked. The operator shook his head.

Merlin was facing away from the camera, and Freya was sitting in front of him, the distance between them punctuated by a glass wall. The video was heavily tinged green, but Arthur didn’t need to see her. He knew exactly what she looked like.

As he watched, Freya shot up from the seat, glaring at Merlin. “She is not thrilled about this visit.” He muttered. The warden shrugged.

On the screen, Merlin was now imploring her to listen. Freya shook her head.

“We need to get a lip reader in here.” The warden said.

“No need,” Arthur replied, his eyes still trained on the screen. “It has been a good experience, one I would never forget. But I can’t do this anymore,” He said, watching Freya’s lips intently. “Goodbye, Merlin.”

* * *

Arthur had not expected what he saw when he entered the empty apartment his search had led him to.

Merlin was sitting forlornly against a pillar, one of his hands clutching a purple silk handkerchief with red strawberries embroidered on it. From Arthur’s vantage point, it looked like he was seeing out of the window. If he was doing so, then he surely had noticed the sirens flashing against the curtains. His whole posture admitted defeat, something Arthur had never seen on the forger before. He was always confident. It didn’t suit him.

“I missed her,” Merlin’s deep voice reverberated in the room. It sounded just like it had four years ago, but a little more raspy this time. Maybe because he had been crying.

“Freya?” Arthur asked softly, moving forward. He had decided to enter the room alone, hoping to make a connection with Ambrosius before he caught him. A team was standing just outside the door.

“Two days,” Merlin replied. He turned and peeked around the pillar, meeting Arthur’s eyes.

“The handkerchief?” Arthur prompted, curious about it.

“It was cut from the first dress I gave her, when I found her being kidnapped. The strawberries were her favorite fruit. It symbolises the bond between us, and it was her way of telling me that she will always be thankful for all I had done for her. She left it.” The last part was mostly said to himself.

“She’s disappeared.” Arthur pointed out the obvious. Merlin let out a dry chuckle.

“She is good at that. She had done that more than once when we had an argument.”

“She won’t be returning this time.” Arthur tried to phrase it as a question, but Merlin didn’t take it that way. His blue eyes flared in anger, the flecks of gold becoming more prominent.

“I was the one who taught her everything she knows. She can’t hide from me.”

“Or so you think. You shouldn’t underestimate anyone.” Arthur was now losing his patience with him. He had already had a bad day, and Ambrosius wasn’t making it any easier.

He looked up to see Merlin gazing intently at him.

Or rather, his shoulder.

He stood up, and walked towards him, his eyes still trained on his shoulder. He stopped a step away from him, and held up a hand as if to pick something up from the shoulder.

“May I?” Merlin asked, his indecipherable eyes gazing at him, an eyebrow quirked.

Arthur gave a curt nod, extremely confused as to what exactly was he trying to do. The idea of him hurting him flashed through his mind, but a glance at him told him that he was too desperate right now to try anything.

Fingers brushed over Arthur’s shoulders, and retreated in the next second.

Merlin studied his fingers for a second, and then rubbed it between his thumb. He looked up at him, eyes shining.

“Do you know what that is?” Arthur asked, frowning at the tiny flakes on his finger.

“If I tell you, will you meet me at the facility in a week?” Merlin asked, his voice carrying a tone of hope and excitement, a stark contrast to just a few minutes before.

“Excuse me?” Arthur asked incredulously.

“If I tell you what this is, will you meet me at the facility in a week?” Merlin repeated. Arthur gave him a long calculating look, trying to figure out what he was trying to do. It didn’t work. Merlin’s face revealed nothing. Arthur nodded hesitantly.

“Nastrium blue.” Merlin said immediately. Arthur frowned.

“What?”

“It was a special kind of blue paint an artist named Herlando used in his works. It had some solid diamond and ruby particles in it, in a specific size and ratio. Herlando used the paint in all his works, and the particles are impossible to replicate. It makes forging his works virtually impossible. But _this_ ,” He glanced down at the flakes. “This isn’t exactly the same, but good enough to fool forensic analysis.”

“How do you know that?” Arthur demanded.

Merlin raised an infuriating eyebrow. “Forgers never reveal their secrets.”

Arthur growled low in his throat, and clicked his fingers. The team standing outside the room filed in, a few of the men brandishing rifles and all of them outfitted in tactical gear.

“One week,” Merlin reminded Arthur, staring at him with his impossibly deep eyes as his hands were cuffed behind him.

Arthur watched him being whisked away.

* * *

* * *

Merlin looked up at Arthur leaning against the window sill, the late afternoon sun streaming through the glass and framing his golden hair in a halo. It was unfair. He should not be this attractive in a prison visit room.

“You wanted me to come here,” Arthur said. “I did. What do you want?”

Merlin took a deep breath and exhaled. This was his only chance. He had to play his cards right, otherwise he will be forced to spend another four years in this hell.

“Was it really nastrium blue?” Merlin asked, trying to play off the inevitable for just another few minutes.

Arthur trained his cornflower blue eyes on him, veiled curiosity swirling in it. “It was close. Forensics was _very_ curious as to how you figured that out.”

Merlin shrugged, giving him his best ‘ _forgers never reveal their secrets_ ’ smile.

Arthur straightened, and stalked his way towards him, taking the seat opposite his. “What do you want?” He asked again.

“I know why you call him The Enigma. You are not sure what he does, his fingers are stuck in so many pies.” Merlin shrugged. “I like to think I gave you a pretty good clue with the nastrium blue.”

“So what?” Arthur’s eyes were distrustful. Merlin tried not to let that deter him.

“I want to help you catch him.”

Seeing Arthur’s confused face, Merlin flipped open a file before him, turning it around to face the blond.

“I can be released into the custody of the FBI, and by extension, yours, to consult.” He explained, his long fingers pointing out the corresponding lines in the file.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, but he could see him considering it.

And then, without a word, he got up and whisked out. Merlin watched in shock. His last chance had slipped right through his fingers.

A small consolation was that he took the file with him.

* * *

* * *

It was nearing midnight, but sleep was the furthest thing from Arthur’s mind. He was sitting at his dining table, a myriad of files and notes strewn on it, a mug of coffee set precariously on the edge.

Soft padded footsteps were coming towards him, and a second later, slim arms snaked around his shoulder, locking in front of his neck.

“Are you considering Merlin’s offer?” Gwen asked, her voice soft and breathy in his ear.

Arthur let out a small chuckle. “How did you know that?”

“You would be in bed with me if you weren’t. Come on.”

Arthur shook his head. “I can’t. He had said that he could help me catch Enigma. I am not sure if I should trust him, but I am running out of options.” He leaned back and massaged his temples. “I have been after him almost as long as I was after Ambrosius.”

“Maybe you should come to bed. You’ll feel better.”

Arthur hummed noncommittally. Gwen realised he wasn’t going to come anytime soon, and pulled back, taking a seat beside him.

“Come on, list all the pros and cons. Then we’ll figure it out.”

* * *

Arthur watched as Merlin exited the facility, squinting under the sunlight after spending so much time indoors. His hair was still unkempt, but at least he had shaved. The minutest evidence of stubble decorated his jaw. He was dressed in a blue coat and black trousers, not exactly what he used to wear he was captured, but at least a step up from orange jumpsuits.

Arthur clapped his hands once, and Merlin’s eyes snapped up to his. “Let’s see the anklet.” 

Merlin pulled up his left trouser leg, revealing a small device wound around his leg.

“Excellent,” Arthur said, pulling open the passenger door of the car he was leaning against. “Get in.”

* * *

* * *

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me. I can’t live here.”

Arthur looked at him, making no attempt to hide his amusement. They were standing in front of the reception of a run down motel, but honestly, the word ‘motel’ was extremely generous.

“Well, it is the only thing in the FBI’s budget for you. If you find anything under 600 dollars a month in the two mile radius, go ahead and take it. Until then, here’s your key.” He handed him something that looked like it had at least a few dozen types of bacteria living on it.

“There is also a thrift store down the street. You like thrift stores, right?”

Merlin gave him his best death glare. Arthur grinned, clapping him on his back and pushing him in the direction of his room.

* * *

“Honestly prison was better than this place. At least the toilets were washed once every three months.” Merlin grumbled, walking down the street. He had taken one look at his room and decided he needed to forget he was to live here. Arthur had said there was a thrift store here, right? Better than the motel, at least.

The anklet was a weight on his ankle, an unwelcome reminder that his freedom wasn’t unconditional. He thought that he would get used to the sensation soon, but until then, it was a stark reminder of his predicament. He pushed open the door and was hit by the warmth. It was filled to the brim with second-hand goods, not really Merlin’s style, but it was better than nothing. Maybe he would find something good.

An hour’s worth of combing, but he hadn’t found anything noteworthy. The only thing he had found was a wide-brimmed dark blue fedora with a beige strap, which was currently resting on his head. 

Merlin flipped through the rack for the third time, for the lack of a better thing to do. Arthur hadn’t contacted him yet, and he sure as hell wasn’t going back to his pigsty of a motel room anytime soon.

The rack was placed close to the billing counter, and had an excellent view of the entrance. As he watched, it opened, revealing a man laden down with plastic-covered coats. He walked (more like stumbled) up to the counter, dropping his load on it. 

The man had long brown hair, stubble, and a grin on his face. As Merlin watched, he pulled out one of the coats from its wrapping and showed it to the woman behind the counter.

“Is that a Grosvenor?” Merlin blurted out before he could stop himself. Both the man and the woman turned towards him. The man’s grin widened.

“My partner’s,” He said. “Not really my style, so I didn’t have any use for it after he kicked the bucket a few weeks ago. Decided to give it away.”

Merlin nodded, and held his hand out for the coat. The man handed it over. It was a sleek black trenchcoat, ending just below his knees. Merlin turned it over, raising an impressed eyebrow, and slung it over his shoulders, trying it on. He looked up to see the man looking at him. “Looks good on you,” He said.

“Really?” Merlin asked, fixing the fedora on his head and turning around to look at himself in the mirror. The man nodded. “I’m Gwaine.” He said, holding out his hand for a shake.

“Merlin. And do you have any more of these?” He asked, shaking his hand.

“A whole room full of it.” Gwaine’s eyes slid over him, taking in the shabby trousers and shirt. “You look new to the city. Need a place to live?”

Merlin gave him a smile. “I would love to, but I have a tight budget.”

“How much?”

“600 dollars a month.”

Gwaine shrugged. “I can make it work.”

Merlin’s spirits lifted. “Really?”

“Since Brestion died, his room is only being used for storage. I can clear it out for you.”

“How far is it?”

“Just a kilometer from here. So is that a yes?”

Merlin grinned. “Hell yeah!”

* * *

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” This time, it was Arthur who said that, disbelief apparent in his tone. “How did you manage to get this?”

“My charming personality.”

“And is it in the budget.”

“600 dollars a month?”

“Yup.”

Both of them were in Merlin new living space, a good sized room with white and butterscotch-coloured walls, a king sized bed, bookshelves, and a walk-in closet. French windows opened into a terrace overlooking the city, and tall trees ringed the property. To say Arthur was jealous would be an understatement.

Merlin’s landlord, Gwaine was also standing there, his arms crossed over his chest and a roguish grin on his face. His whole demeanor suggested that he had once been involved in some not-so-legal activities. Perhaps that was how Merlin had managed to get this place. His eyes narrowed.

“Be at work at nine a.m tomorrow.” He told him, walking out of the room.

Behind him, Merlin mock saluted. “Yes sir.”


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur couldn’t help the flare of irritation that shot up in him when he saw Merlin enter the hall reserved for the White Collar Crime division of the FBI headquarters _._

_Trust him to look bloody perfect just after the day he got out of prison._

He was dressed in a black trenchcoat over an ivory-coloured button up and black trousers, a dark blue fedora perched over unruly black curls.

 _He got a haircut._ Arthur noticed.

There was a very thin line between fashionable and over the top, and he looked like he had perfected treading on it long time ago. He certainly looked different from everyone else in the room, most of whom were dressed in suits. Mostly because they didn’t earn enough to afford anything more expensive. Merlin clearly didn’t have such problems.

As Arthur watched, Merlin looked around the place, a mildly bewildered expression on his face. Arthur grinned. It was the first time he had seen him look something else than coolly confident.

He let him stew in his confusion for another moment before raising his hand and directing his attention to him. His office was on a higher level than others’ desks, perks to being a senior agent. A balcony ran across the width of the room opposite to the door, on which he was standing right now, accessible only by a staircase curling across the right side wall. The entrance of his office was on the balcony, and it stretched towards the opposite side, divided from the rest of the hall by a few plexiglass sheets and a light wooden door.

Merlin raised his hand to show that he saw him, his blue eyes trained on him. Arthur jerked his thumb to the right, indicating that he wanted him in the conference room, which was only on the balcony. Merlin nodded to show that he understood. Arthur nodded and stalked off in the direction of the conference room, where his team and a few other people were waiting for him. He took a seat at the head of the table, flipping open his file on The Enigma and pulling open a USB drive. He handed it to Elyan to plug it into the screen at the front of the room.

Merlin stepped into the room, his eyes scanning everyone. His expression was guarded, which was understandable. He was a criminal through and through, and stepping into a room filled with federal agents would be daunting for anyone, let alone a high-class criminal, even though it was his idea in the first place.

Arthur stood up. “Everyone, this is Merlin Ambrosius, someone who you would know better as the man who managed to evade the FBI, and me, for at least three years. He was convicted of bond forgery, and gave us the first clue as what the hell was Enigma into. He will be consulting with us on this case.” Merlin simply raised an eyebrow. Ah, yes! The bravado. Arthur was wondering where it had gone. He didn’t say anything in reply to Arthur’s introduction, instead taking a seat. Eyes followed him, assessing him and making interpretations. A couple were also appreciative. Arthur mentally rolled his eyes, and gestured to Elyan to plug in the drive. A slideshow popped up, the first slide showing a few flakes of blue paint in a petri dish, and a painting of a half-naked woman playing a violin, done in shades of grey and blue.

Arthur stood up and walked across the room, stopping in front of the screen and turning around to face the others. 

“I hope you are familiar with the new developments in the Enigma case. We have reason to believe that they are trying to forge the works of an early 18th century artist named Herlando. He used a special kind of paint in his works, so that they could not be forged. The flakes on the petri dish are from the safe-cracking expedition we did a few days ago, and we think this is the paint that Enigma will use to forge Herlando’s works. They are quite valuable, seeing that people think that they cannot be forged, and forged works are going to sell at a very high price.”

Someone in the middle of the room raised their hand, and Arthur gestured at them to ask their question.

“So, you are saying that the paint cannot be replicated? How is that possible?”

“It’s called Nastrium Blue.” A voice came from the back of the room. Merlin. It was the first time he had spoken since entering the building. “It has diamond and ruby dust in it, and trace amounts of gold. It is very difficult to get the composition right, and even more to get hands on the materials. Half a litre of paint requires at least seven grams of diamond dust, and fifteen grams of ruby dust. Forgers aren’t that rich mostly, and they feel Herlando’s works aren’t really worth it. Also, it contains the blood of Dodo birds, and everyone knows they are extinct. Herlando was quite ingenious for thinking about it.”

Elyan frowned. “How did he get his hands on the blood?”

Merlin shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I think he got it from where he got everything else; his patrons.”

Everyone nodded. Arthur smiled. Merlin was already coming handy, and he hadn’t even been in here for an hour. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to answer all the questions himself. From what looked like, he was also fitting in nicely. Even though people were cautious of him, they were opening up to him, at least a little.

Someone else raised their hand. Arthur pointed at him.

“Do we have any idea which is going to be forged? It might be easier if we knew that and we could keep an eye out.”

Arthur turned an expectant gaze to Merlin, not even trying to answer the question. Merlin visibly rolled his eyes at him. Arthur pretended not to notice. “There are only 42 known works of Herlando’s, and all of them are accounted for. Except two, which were burnt in riots in 1898 and 1937 respectively. My best guess is that either one of them will be forged, or a new one will be made, and passed off as an original. But just in case,” He paused, getting up from his seat and walking to the front of the room, where he pulled out Arthur’s drive from the screen and replaced it with another which he pulled from his pocket. “These are the ones which were burnt,” An image appeared on the screen, showing a ship being wrecked in a storm, done in white, grey, brown and blue. “This one is called _The Tempest,_ oil on canvas, done in 1812. The other one,” The slideshow on the screen changed, showing a black silhouette of what were clearly two men having ‘fun’ against the starry night sky. “Is called _Two Men In An Embrace_ , and it’s pretty obvious what it shows. I won’t go in the intricacies of Herlando’s art style, but be careful, the Enigma will definitely be trying his best to copy that.”

Everyone nodded, and Arthur dismissed them, telling them to dig up anything that gives them any lead, even if it seems unrelated to the case. Merlin was about to leave as well, when Arthur called his name.

“Come to my office. There’s something you need to know.”

Merlin looked confused, but let him lead the way. Both of them entered Arthur’s office, and Arthur closed the door before turning to Merlin, who was looking more and more apprehensive by the second, even though he was keeping it hidden under a mask of cool indifference. Arthur took his seat behind the desk, gazing at Merlin and watching in amusement as he started to shift on his feet uncomfortably.

“Take a seat,” He told him, and watched as Merlin visibly relaxed and did so. Arthur took a moment to gather his thoughts, and started to speak.

“Honestly, when I decided to take you up on your offer, I had more than a dozen reasons not to. But I decided to take a leap of faith, which is something a FBI agent doesn’t get to do much. But what you did out there, in the conference room, made me realise that this might not be a bad idea after all. I was thinking about waiting some more time before telling you this, but now I believe the sooner you get to know about this, the better. So, I talked to my superior about this, Gaius, the head of the White Collar division, and he told me that if you could help us close this case, which I have been working on for more that three years, at my last count, then it may be possible for us to make this situation,” He glanced meaningfully at Merlin’s ankle, “Permanent.” 

Merlin visibly brightened up at his words. Arthur let him have a moment before continuing, delivering advice that would probably not be well-taken.

“And on a more uncomfortable note, I know that you will be tempted to look for Freya. Take my advice. _Don’t._ She left you, and honestly, I am trying to give you something good here, don’t throw it away. I don’t need to remind you that if you run, you aren’t going back to prison for four years, you are going back there for good.” Arthur stared at him, trying to drive the point home. Merlin gave him a curt nod, clearly not liking what he had just said. 

Arthur grinned. “Fantastic, now that both of this out of they way, you can tell me about all the other crimes-” 

Before he could finish, a sharp knock reverberated through the small room. Behind the door, Morgana was peering expectantly through the glass. Arthur beckoned her to come inside.

She opened the door, and deftly stepped in, closing the door behind her. She held up a file before tossing it onto the desk.

“You asked for something that might be a lead. I am not sure if this is related, but it might turn out to be something.”

Arthur held up a hand to stop her, turning to Merlin. “You probably haven’t been introduced properly. Merlin, this is Morgana, my probationary agent, and Morgana, this is Merlin-”

“Your pet criminal.” She finished for him. “Yes, I know.”

Arthur frowned at her, but she just gave him a grin before turning to Merlin. “No offence, of course. You’re one of my favorite people. Anyone who has managed to evade my brother for the better part of 3 years is a hero in my eyes, criminal or not.”

Merlin’s eyes shot up. “You’re siblings?”

Arthur glared at Morgana before answering him. “Half-siblings. Morgana was a cop in DC before coming here and working for the FBI. They stuck her with me.”

Merlin hummed contemplatively, before looking down at the file on the desk. “So, what was the lead?”

“Eager, are we?” Arthur teased.

Merlin gave him a lopsided grin.“The sooner we finish this thing, the more chance I have to have this thing,” He nodded his head at the tracking anklet. “Permanent.”

Morgana raised an eyebrow. “You told him?”

“He had to know sooner or later. So, the file.” Arthur flipped it open and scanned the front page. “A robbery?”

“Yes,” Morgana leaned over and flipped a few pages. “It was a diamond heist that happened in Boston about three weeks ago. The burglar was caught a week and a half later, but the diamonds weren’t recovered.”

Arthur frowned. “What does it have to do with the case?”

Morgana grinned, and pointed over to a statistic on the file with her painted nails. “Look at the amount stolen. Five small diamonds and three medium-sized rubies. I did a little research, and guess what? That is the exact amount needed to obtain seven grams and fifteen grams of dust respectively.” She leaned back, a self satisfied smirk playing on her lips. Arthur sucked in a breath, Merlin doing the same in front of him. They look at each other.

“Are you thinking what I am?” Arthur asks.

“It looks like it is time to give mister,” Merlin glanced down at the file, “Adam Rivera a visit.”

* * *

The ride to Boston was uneventful. Arthur had opted out of bringing Merlin along with him. He was a criminal through and through, and bringing him to a prison full of convicts probably isn’t the best idea. Besides, he didn’t really need him anyways.

He had spent the three hour ride from New York to Boston thinking of ways to make the diamond robber cooperate with him, but when he saw him, he knew he shouldn’t have bothered.

The boy couldn’t have been more than in his early twenties, with a mop of red hair that swept across his forehead in waves, and forest green eyes. The hair clashed horribly with his orange jumpsuit and the sunlight streaming through the window did not help. 

As Arthur stepped inside the room, the boy looked up at him, his face still carrying the innocence of youth. Arthur didn’t let that fool him. The man was a criminal, no matter how young he was. He had done something wrong, and was now being punished for it. Arthur took a seat opposite him.

“Why are you here? I haven’t done anything since!”

Arthur shook his head and looked at the boy. “The diamonds you stole… We think that it has something to do with a criminal the FBI has been trying to catch for three years.”

“The FBI?!” Adam looked even more shocked now. “What has the FBI’s got to do with this?”

 _Wrong._ Arthur thought. _This man was going to be difficult, just not in the way I had thought_.

In response, he pulled the file Morgana had given him and opened on the page the pictures of the diamonds and rubies, which were taken in the jewellery store they were taken from.

“Who hired you?” He asked, cutting straight to the point.

Adam paled. “No..no one! I had worked alone! I sold the diamonds!”

Arthur frowned. Adam had no reason to lie. He had been caught, and was in prison. His employers could not harm him. 

Unless it wasn’t _him_ they had threatened to harm.

Arthur leaned forward and grasped Adam’s shaking hands with one of his own. He stared at him, trying to show how that he cared. A difficult feat, as he was as expressive with his feelings as a block of wood, even with the people he cared about.

“You’re safe here. No harm will come to you. Just tell me who hired you.”

“No one!”

“See, that’s where you are wrong. We have proof that you were hired by someone we call The Enigma. He told you to get the diamonds for him.”

“I wasn’t hired!” The boy was now sounding hysterical. A twinge of doubt shot through Arthur’s mind. Morgana _had_ said that it was possible that it wasn’t connected to the case. Maybe Adam was telling the truth. Maybe he wasn’t hired after all.

But all semblance of doubt that this was unconnected was thrown out of Arthur’s mind in the next second. Adam was taking deep breaths, and then he grabbed the plastic water bottle on the desk and opened it, chugging half the contents down in one go. A sheen of sweat reflected off his skin. He was bothered, extremely so. Too much for a simple interrogation.

Arthur let Adam calm down for a minute, watching him as he splayed his hands on the desk in front of him, his eyes trained on the grain of wood between his thumbs as he brought his breathing back to normal.

Between one second and the next, Adam deflated and slouched, as if all fight had been sucked out of him. “They told me that they would kill her if I told anyone.” He whispered, almost too low for Arthur to catch. 

“Who?”

“My twin sister. She is an art student studying at the North Shore college. I work a part-time job to support her. A few weeks ago she got an invite to intern at a well-known art gallery for a year. Both of us were exhilarated. But then all went wrong. I got an envelope the next week, telling me to steal the diamonds or that they would kill her. If I told anyone, the same thing would happen. I didn’t tell anyone, even after I was caught. I was afraid.”

“It’s understandable. Where is she now?”

“I don’t know. After I was caught, she was horrified and disappeared. I have no idea where she is. All that I know that she isn’t working at the gallery anymore.”

Arthur frowned. “Do you think that whoever sent you that envelope works at the gallery?”

“They own it. I think.”

Arthur nodded, filing the information for later. “How did you give them the stolen diamonds?”

“The envelope gave all the details. I had to leave them on a boat on the pier.”

“How were you paid?”

“That is the odd thing. They didn’t say anything about payment, but a week later a painting was mailed to me. Taylor, my sister, recognised it from the gallery and that it costed at least fifty thousand dollars. A message arrived the next day, telling me that it was the payment for the heist. I was arrested before I could sell it.”

Arthur’s mood brightened. “Where is the painting now?”

“With my sister.”

Arthur nodded, flipping the file still lying on the table between them closed and casting one last look at his notes. “Thank you for your time. I will be in touch.”

Adam nodded solemnly. Making a split second decision, Arthur leaned towards him. “Listen, if your information comes in handy, you might be called to testify against the Enigma. Your sentence might be cut short.” He whispered.

Adam’s countenance brightened noticeably, and he nodded enthusiastically. Arthur gave him one last smile, before turning around and walking out of the room. He pulled out his phone and dialed Morgana, telling her to pull up a name and get her address.

* * *

* * *

Merlin was doodling on a piece of paper on the table in the conference room when Morgana came knocking.

“Arthur wants you downstairs.” She said, with no preamble.

Merlin frowned. “Why?”

Morgana shrugged. “He asked me to pull up a name a few hours ago. Someone named Taylor Rivera. Sister of Adam Rivera.”

Merlin straightened. “Our diamond thief? So did he manage to get something?”

“It seems like it.”

“Why does he need me?”

“I don’t know. Taylor is an Art student, maybe it is related to that?”

Merlin sighed. “When do I have to go?”

“Right now. Arthur’s downstairs.”

* * *

“The painting’s a forgery.” Merlin announced, to the surprise of Arthur and Taylor, who didn’t know, apparently.

They had been in Taylor’s home for about fifteen minutes and were currently in her living room, and she had shown them the painting that Adam had received as payment. Arthur had told Merlin everything about the interrogation on the way here. It hadn’t been a long drive, thankfully, as Taylor had shifted to the Lower East Side from Boston.

Arthur blinked. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. The only odd thing is that this is a Herlando.”

“Our mystery painter.”

“ _Serenade of the Angels_ isn’t a very well-known painting, and is currently in a small out of the way museum in Germany. I am not surprised that this was the one chosen. It isn’t improbable that the Enigma had bought and displayed it here. But that isn’t the case. This is definitely a forgery.”

Arthur let loose a string of rude words. Taylor gave him a look.

“It isn’t necessarily bad. In fact, this is better.”

Arthur gave him a look as if he didn’t believe a word he said. Merlin thought that he would have to get used to this look.

“How so?” Arthur demanded.

“Because all world-class forgers leave a signature on their works. The Enigma certainly has. Taylor, do you have a magnifying glass?”

She pulled out one from a nearby drawer and handed it to him. “This might take some time,” Merlin said. “This is a big painting.”

But it didn’t take as much time as expected. Hardly ten minutes later Merlin let out a cry of satisfaction. “There it is. In the wing of the grey angel.”

Taking alternate turns both Arthur and Taylor looked at the painting. Merlin was right. In the creases between the outer feathers of the grey angel (Which was near the right edge of the painting) was a tiny cramped and italicised WO.

“WO? What is that?” Taylor asked.

Merlin shrugged. “Give me your phone for a minute will you?”

Taylor narrowed her eyes. “Where’s yours?”

“Out of juice.” Merlin lied. He didn’t have one, of course.

Taylor gave him a distrustful look, but still handed it to him. He clicked an image of the angel before dispatching it to himself in an email. Deleting it from her phone, he handed it back to her. Arthur frowned at him, no doubt suspicious.

Both of them bid goodbye to Taylor, and went back to the car, the painting rolled up under Arthur’s arm. Merlin’s black trenchcoat was now covered in dust at the hem. He was regretting wearing it now.

“Why did you ask her for her phone?” He asked, cutting straight to the point as soon as they were in the safety of the car.

“None of your business.”

“I’m your handler. It is completely my business that you are not reverting back to your old habits.”

“You’ve never been part of the criminal world and it shows.”

“What?”

“Nevermind. If you must know, I was just sending a picture of the signature to myself.”

“How? A message? You don’t have a number.”

“Email.”

“Ah right! What is it again?”

“Hilarious. As if I’ll tell you just because you asked for it.”

“I was polite.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Arthur frowned at him. “Why are you so stand offish?”

Merlin gave him an incredulous look. “Put yourself in my shoes. A convicted criminal, in cahoots with the FBI. Anyone would be uncomfortable.”

“I think it is because you are tired.”

A pause. “Maybe.”

“I’ll drop you off then drop the painting with Morgana at the building.”

“Sounds good.”

Silence reigned for a few minutes, then Merlin spoke up again.

“So, how are you and Gwen?”

“Still going strong.”

“It has been five years, right? Did you get the birthday cards I sent you?”

“Nice touch, those.” Arthur said dryly.

“Come on, you liked them.”

“No, they were a reminder that you were still alive.”

“Ouch.”

There was a pause, and then laughter filled the car. 

“You’re nice company, I have to admit.” Arthur said, accelerating the car as they passed a green light about to turn yellow.

“You would have figured that a long time ago if you weren’t so adamant on catching me.”

“Maybe if you weren’t a criminal.”

Merlin stopped laughing instantly, turning the mood somber. Arthur frowned and snuck a glance at him, seeing him look forlorn.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t call me that.”

“What? A criminal? You are one.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to call me that. It has a very negative ring to it.”

Arthur paused for a minute, and Merlin glanced at him.

“Alright. What do you want me to call you then?”\

“Merlin.”

“Okay, Merlin, where do I have to go now?”

“Haha.”

“No, seriously, I am lost. Where do I have to go now?”

Merlin looked around, trying to discern where exactly they were. It took longer than expected, as the sun had set a while ago, and the streetlights were dimming in comparison to the headlights of other cars, which were shining in his eyes. Merlin had no idea how Arthur was driving. “Take a right at the next junction, and then the second left. We should be there in about five minutes.” Arthur nodded, and the rest of the ride went in silence, both of them too tired to carry on a conversation.

Merlin got off in front of Gwaine’s brownstone with a nod of thanks to Arthur, who sped off a minute later. Merlin tucked his fedora under his arm, running a hand through his hair. He was tired, and was only thinking of his bed upstairs. Who knew doing an honest job was so tiring?

But the day wasn’t finished with surprises yet. Gwaine probably still the club he ran downtown, so Merlin let himself in with the spare key he had given him when he had first moved in, with the warning about the odd hours he worked.

He had just started climbing the stairs when he heard a sound in the dining room. Merlin frowned. As far as he knew, he was alone in the house.

Maybe it was Gwaine’s pet cat, Odin.

But no, Gwaine had told him in the morning that he would be taking him to the club this evening. Meaning there was someone here who wasn’t supposed to be.

Merlin plucked a poker from the umbrella stand near the door. Why exactly was it there, he had no idea, but for now he was thankful it was. A poker would be a much better weapon than an umbrella.

Making a split-second decision, Merlin pulled off his coat and threw it over the banister. He tiptoed into the dining room, poker raised.

As he walked forward, he became aware of something suspicious. The intruder wasn’t moving around, only staying in one place. Meaning that they weren’t here to steal anything.

When Merlin entered the room, the intruder was still at the same place, sitting at the table, even though it was obvious someone else was there.

Merlin flipped on the lights, and dark skin and brown eyes greeted him, topped with dark caramel hair. Merlin sighed, putting down the poker before enveloping that man in a tight hug. “Lance! How are you?”

“Just as I always was. The bigger question is, how are _you_?”

“Better now that I am out of prison, that place is hell.”

Lancelot chuckled, before nodding down at Merlin's ankle. He placed it on the seat of a chair. “Can you pick it?” Merlin asked.

Lancelot appraised it for a moment, before straightening and shaking his head. “Sorry. The suits have become better at making these. I can’t.”

Merlin sighed, but he wasn’t too bothered. Sure, he wanted to escape, but Arthur’s warning still rang in his mind. It was just four years, and spending them in the fresh air with an anklet was infinitely better than spending it between four walls of a cell.

“Any news about Freya?” He asked, something that was bothering since he had gotten out of prison.

Lancelot shook his head. “No. I’d asked around, but no one knows. She’s disappeared.”

Merlin nodded, a frown creasing his brows. “One last thing. I need you to identify something for me. Give me your phone.”

Lancelot did so, and Merlin quickly opened his email. Thank God that Lance had kept it logged in all these years.

“There,” He said, pulling up the picture of the painting he had clicked earlier that evening. “I want you to figure out who that is.”

“WO,” Lancelot mused. “Any clues so I could narrow my search?”

“The FBI calls him the Enigma. He is a forger who is currently fixated on Herlando’s works.”

“Forging Herlando? That’s damn near impossible.”

“And the man has nearly cracked it. The painting is Serenade of The Angels. I need the name as soon as possible.”

“Alright, I’ll be done by the morning.”

“I have no idea how to thank you.”

“Just don’t go to jail again. I had a very lonely four years without my best friend.”

Both of them chuckled lightly, and then after a pause, hugged again.

“It’s good to see you,” Lancelot told him.

“Yeah, same.”

Merlin watched as Lancelot started to leave, but then a question struck him. 

“Wait, how did you get in?”

“I knocked. Introduced myself to Gwaine. Hell of a guy. I’ll probably be visiting again sometime soon.”

Merlin chuckled, and with a parting grin, Lancelot left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry everyone, I have exams coming up and I need to study. I won't be able to write another chapter until after February has ended. But then I have a long holiday, so then you all can expect fast updates. 😊


	3. Chapter 3

The next day dawned bright and sunny. Merlin woke up from the best sleep he had in years, courtesy of the comfy mattress Gwaine had provided him with. He stayed in there for a few minutes, letting the last dregs of sleep wash away. The clock on the wall across him informed him that it was five minutes past eight, leaving him with just enough time to get ready and reach his office.

Office. Huh. He had never thought he would have to use that word.

Merlin climbed out of the bed, a tricky feat considering that it was very thick, and very soft and Merlin just wanted to curl up and go back to sleep. Motivation arrived in the form of the door to his room opening, and Lancelot striding in. As Merlin watched, he stopped as his eyes fell on the room, and he raised an impressed eyebrow.

“What happened?” Merlin asked, still half-off his bed and his voice groggy.

Lancelot turned towards him, his eyebrows still raised. Then Merlin’s words apparently sunk in, as then he cleared his throat.

“I found out who the Enigma is.” He said, moving towards him and handing him a folded piece of paper. Merlin unfolded it, and read the words written on it. His eyes widened, and he threw himself off the bed, making a beeline for the bathroom as Lance watched in bewilderment,

* * *

* * *

Arthur had just finished with his watch and was reaching for his tie when his phone rang. He picked it up, and frowned as he saw who was calling.

Elyan.

What was so urgent that he had called him right now? He hadn’t even had breakfast yet!

Arthur accepted the call, and when Elyan’s first words reached him, his blood ran cold.

“Ambrosius has run. He’s outside his radius.”

The blond flung himself out of the room, his tie still undone and hanging from his neck.

“Pull up his tracking data. There’s no way he has managed to cut it, and send a team to where he is. I swear to God-” He trailed off as he was halfway down the stairs, his eyes falling on the couch where Gwen was sitting and laughing with someone.

The head of unruly black curls was impossible not to recognise.

“Nevermind Elyan, he’s with me.” Arthur spoke and cut the call before Elyan could reply.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, climbing down the rest of the steps and levelling Merlin with his best glare. He just smiled unabashedly at him.

“Meeting your fantastic girlfriend here. Honestly all that I have heard of her falls flat to the real thing. Why didn’t you never get her to meet me?”

“Because you were in jail. And what are you doing out of your radius?”

“Oh!” Merlin exclaimed, “I found out who Enigma is.”

Three years of dead ends, and this guy figures it out in a day. Arthur silently fumed at the unfairness of it all, until he saw what was on the table. Taylor’s copy of  _ Serenade of the Angels  _ was spread on the coffee table in front of them. “Where did you get that?”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same thing. I thought you were getting this to Morgana. Isn’t this evidence?”

Arthur spluttered, having no reply. What Merlin had said was true; it wasn’t supposed to be here, and he was the one who had kept it. “You were saying you figured the identity of Enigma?”

Merlin shot him a grin, having caught his attempt at deflecting. “I did. His name is William Osborn.”

“Wait. William Osborn? As in the art restorer William Osborn?”

“The one and only.”

Arthur sank down in an armchair. William Osborn was very popular in art circles, and had a reputation of being one of the best restorers in the field. He had also consulted with the FBI a few times, and Arthur had felt he was a man of honor.

Apparently not.

“Are you okay?” Gwen asked him. Arthur didn’t reply.

“Shit. I think I broke him.” Merlin whispered, just audible enough for Arthur to hear him. He leveled him with a half-hearted glare. He was still reeling from the information that one of the people he never expected to be a criminal was.

“You know,” Merlin started thoughtfully. Arthur swivelled his head to look at him. “It does make sense that he is Enigma. William is an expert in really obscure yet valuable artists, and that’s what makes him so good. Herlando is practically the definition of obscure yet valuable, and William has a lot to gain by forging his works.”

“So you are saying that you are absolutely sure that William Osborn is the Enigma?”

“Positive. My source is never wrong.”

“Hm… What was your source again?”

“Ha ha.”

Arthur chuckled, and straightened in his seat, distractedly starting on his tie, which was still hanging around his neck.

“Do you want breakfast?” Gwen asked. “I wasn’t sure if you’ll be eating here, so I didn’t make any. I just ate a bowl of cereal, but I can whip up some pancakes.”

Merlin brightened up at the mention of pancakes. “Really? I haven’t had pancakes since-”

“No thank you Gwen,” Arthur interrupted. “We need to get the painting and the name to the FBI as soon as possible. We’ll have something on the way.”

Seeing Merlin’s crestfallen face, Gwen smiled at him. “Don’t worry, you are welcome anytime.”

Arthur simply rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything, instead choosing to roll up the painting and pick his car keys before walking out of the door. Merlin shot Gwen a smile before getting up and following Arthur out of the house.

* * *

* * *

Both of them slid in Arthur’s car, which was across the road from his home, and Arthur quickly pulled out his phone and tossed it to Merlin before starting the car and pulling out from the line of cars near the curb. Merlin raised an eyebrow at the sleek black smartphone on his lap, and then turned the full force of his inquisitive eyebrow on Arthur, who managed to keep his eyes on the road and not squirm under the stare, a point in his favour.

“Thanks for the gift, but I would have preferred a new one. Actually it’s not just me, no one likes a phone that has been pulled out of someone’s butt pocket in front of them as a gift.” He commented drily.

“What?!” Arthur shot him an incredulous look, but wasn’t able to keep it on him as a lorry just shot past the car, driving on the wrong side of the road and nearly running them over. “Bloody hell!”

“Whoa!” Merlin did  _ not _ screech, thank you very much, and clutched the seat belt stretched across his chest with both hands. The phone slid off his lap and onto the floor as Arthur jerked the steering wheel to the right.

“Bastard!” Arthur yelled, nevermind that all the windows were closed and there was no way the lorry driver could have heard him. Merlin winced.

There was silence in the car for a few minutes during which both regained their breathing and Merlin retrieved the phone from the floor of the car.

“Call Morgana. Tell her what you found. The password is 5814.”

“Telling me your phone password, not the best idea.”

“I’ll change it.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and did what Arthur asked. Probably for the first and last time in the day.

* * *

Arthur and Merlin were in the former’s office, sorting files (Arthur) and solving a rubix cube (Merlin), when Morgana burst in, not bothering to knock and with a file clasped in her hand. Arthur looked up at the noise, and he frowned almost imperceptibly. “Why sure, come on in.”

“I already did,” Morgana answered, and Merlin suppressed a smile. “I found something that might be of interest. I tracked down the man who owned the gallery that Taylor worked in, and turns out, he owns many properties all over America. But one stood out in particular,” She pulled a sheet of paper from the file and placed it on the desk. Both Merlin and Arthur leaned over to check it out. It was an address. “This warehouse is owned by a shell company, which in turn is owned by another shell company, and so on. But the interesting thing is, the final parent company is called Dutchman Enterprises, and William Osborn has a major stake in it. I know it is a long stretch, but it was the only thing I could find of William’s that had nothing to do with art.”

Merlin picked up the paper to inspect it more carefully. “Why this warehouse? I mean, what made you suspect this particular one?”

“It is the only one in the New York-Boston area, and it’s near the docks. Most of Enigma’s activities have been taking place in these cities only. Besides, it is the only one that the shell company owns, which is owned by William Osborn as well as the other shell company.”

Merlin frowned deeper. From the looks of it, even Arthur couldn’t understand what Morgana just said. 

She let out a sigh. “The warehouse is owned by a company,” She said deliberately slowly, like she was explaining it to a child. Or in this case, two children. “The company is registered, but nothing actually happens in there,”

“Yes, we know what a shell company is. Get on with it.” Arthur snapped, irritated at his sister.

“Yes, so, the company that owns the warehouse is owned by two parties. One is another shell company, and the other is, wait for it, William Osborn.” She grinned proudly at this little tidbit. Merlin wasn’t sure what was more creepy. Her cocky smirk, or this smile. At least the cocky smirk looked more natural on her, and not many people can boast of that.

There was a pause as the information sunk in. And then, at the same time, both the blond and the raven yelled “Oh my God!” Without waiting for Morgana to reply, they both shot out of their seats and out of the office.

* * *

* * *

It didn’t take them long to find the warehouse. The address Morgana gave led them to an abandoned-looking warehouse about a quarter of a mile away from the docks, with aluminium doors and peeling paint.

Arthur parked the car in the shadow of an adjoining warehouse to prevent it from being seen, and got out. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Merlin doing the same, the hem of his trenchcoat (dark green, this time) whipping out of his sight as he moved.

(Seriously, he needs to talk to Merlin about that. It was extremely distracting.)

Both of them moved across the road until they were right in front of the warehouse. Slipping around the walls until they were in front of the door, Arthur pulled out his phone, just in case they needed to record something. As expected, the massive rolling door was pulled down, but it didn’t mask the sound coming from inside. It was a deep resounding grumble, drawn out and definitely mechanical.

“It’s a hydraulic press,” Merlin whispered from behind him, sounding excited.

“Why would they be needing a hydraulic press?” Arthur questioned back sharply. He felt rather than saw Merlin’s frown that was surely directed at him, as he was still facing the other way.

“Hydraulic presses can crush diamonds.”

“But we don’t know that is what they are using it for. It can be anything.”

“Can’t we just go inside?”

“It’s private property, we can’t unless we’ve got a warrant. Which we don’t.”

There was a pause. Then Merlin piped up again. “You can’t, because you’re FBI, but I-”

He was interrupted by a ringtone. As the only one of the two who actually owned a phone, Arthur deduced that it must be his. He quickly dug it out of his jacket, and accepted the call before checking the screen just to shut the infernal thing up. It wouldn’t do good to be heard. Morgana’s voice came over the line, and she sounded mildly distressed. It was enough for Arthur to pay all his attention to it.

“Listen,” She started over the phone. There was small rustling noise that followed it, indicating that she had just straightened a sheet of paper. “William Osborn has just booked a flight out of America. There has been talk of him leaving this country permanently, but the FBI never followed it up. Arthur, you have been after him for three years, we need to catch him now, or he’ll vanish forever.”

Arthur nodded, even though he knew she couldn’t see him. It was distressing news, indeed. “When is it leaving?” He asked.

“Day after tomorrow. He’s going to Argentina.”

“Alright, thanks,” Arthur answered, and cut the call. He turned to face Merlin, who now wore an inquisitive expression on his face. He had also removed his coat, and the sleeves of button down under it were folded up to his elbows. Arthur frowned at him. His whole demeanor suggested something that Arthur would not like.

“Who was it?” Merlin asked.

“Morgana. She said that William would be leaving the country in two days,” Arthur replied, gazing intently as his face to gauge his reaction. “Also, I didn’t mention this before, but if we don’t catch him, you are going back to prison.”

As expected, Merlin’s face took a distressed expression. What Arthur  _ didn’t _ expect was what he said next. “Call the police, and tell them to get here quickly, I’ll take care of this,” His face took on a determined expression, and before Arthur could reply, Merlin shoved his coat into his arms and stormed off, turning around the corner and vanishing from sight.

Arthur cursed. When the unmistakable sound of a door opening came, he swore again, but louder.

What the fuck was Merlin thinking?!

Arthur swore one last time, and quickly dialled Morgana on the phone and told her to send a few units to the warehouse, and come there herself as well, bringing Elyan.

* * *

* * *

_ This looks so much better in movies…  _ Merlin thought, as he stood in front and at the wrong side of the door, staring down the inside of the warehouse, and at least half a dozen surprised faces. One of them was more lined than the others, and the body attached to it was dressed in an impeccable three piece navy blue suit, compared to the borderline rags the others were wearing.

William Osborn.

William was middle aged, approaching fifty, if the info provided by the FBI was correct, and but sure didn’t look like it. His grey hair was dyed black, and his face wasn’t as lined as someone of his age should have. His body was snuggly fit into his suit, which was something a man in his early twenties and having an important job in a corporate would wear.

Merlin was never very good at acting, but he would need to become an expert in it in the next five seconds, because his life depended on it right now. He could see three guns in plain sight, and he was sure more were hidden somewhere. And the men looked like they weren’t afraid to use them. The only reason Merlin wasn’t being compared to swiss cheese right now was that he had probably surprised them when he burst in.

“Who the fuck are you?” William yelled, sounding extremely worried for someone who was innocent.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. Fake confidence and bravado it was! “I should be asking you the same thing. This property was listed as empty,” He pulled out a piece of paper from his trouser pocket and opened it. It was crumpled, folded, and definitely _ not _ a government property record, but Merlin tried his best to make it look like it was. He only had to keep up the charade until the police were here. He hoped they wouldn’t be long.

“You are not a government official,” William said sharply. Merlin’s heart seized in his throat, but he refused to let it show.

“What makes you say so?”

“Your clothes. Isn’t that shirt from Gurista’s in Manhattan? No government official can afford that on their salary.”

Merlin let loose a string of curse words in his head. Lance had always reminded him not to underestimate people, and Merlin had worked hard to get rid of that habit, but apparently prison had made him rusty.

_ Damn it Arthur, where the fuck are you?  _

No sooner had Merlin thought that, the sound of sirens pierced through the air. His spirits lifted, until the unmistakable sound of guns cocking reached him.

“Are you crazy?” William exclaimed, annoyed. “Do you want to do time for murder as well? I bloody don’t! Put the guns down!”

The men did not look like they were going to heed what he said, but in the next second, the roll up door burst in a shower of shrapnel. Arthur walked in, Morgana beside him, a smirk pulling the corners of his mouth. 

“You know, this is what officers call an _exigent_ circumstance." Arthur said. _"_ Basically, a law enforcement officer has the liberty to follow a person of interest into private property, and then confiscate all illegal equipment in plain sight.” He waved his arm at the equipment in front of them. “Which is applicable in this case. Cuff them,” The last part was directed towards the policemen who had come inside with them, and they moved. Merlin let out a relieved chuckle, which pulled Arthur’s attention to him. He shot him a grin, and Merlin couldn’t help but smile back.

* * *

Merlin was surprised to see Arthur come out of the interrogation room at least half an hour earlier than he was supposed to. He looked tired, but there was a determined glint to his eyes when he noticed him and walked over.

“So,” Merlin started. “Did he admit to forging Herlando?”

“He did. He also admitted to various other crimes. He is going to put away for a long time.”

Intense relief flooded through the raven. He hadn’t realised how tense he had been until now. He grinned at Arthur. “We did it.”

Arthur nodded. “We did,” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was hiding something. He also knew that Merlin had noticed, as he tried to then hide it with a “Well, it was mostly me, but I suppose you helped a bit too.”

Merlin would have usually said something back, but he was tired and still a little bit in shock how close he had come to death that morning. Besides, that deflection was sure evidence that something was wrong.

“What is it, Arthur? Spit it out,” He snapped, his tone brokering no argument. Arthur sighed, probably understanding that he didn’t have a way out, or was just too tired to argue.

“Nothing. William admitted to the crimes,” Arthur said, and looked up to him. His face was a mask, but Merlin saw right through it.

“And?” He prompted, raising an eyebrow for good measure. Arthur slumped like a marionette with its strings cut, breaking eye contact.

“There is going to be another robbery tonight.” 

Merlin frowned and looked at the clock mounted on the wall. It was barely seven thirty. There was no reason for Arthur to look so tired.

“What?”

“William hired someone else to do another robbery tonight. They would be targeting a jewellery store in Brooklyn.”

“Then why are you so…. Weird? Wait nevermind! We need to go!” Merlin exclaimed, grabbing Arthur’s arm and dragging him out of the office. Arthur let him.

* * *

Everything fell into place when he saw who had crashed out of the window at the jewellery store.

It was just after ten, and both of them were in Arthur’s black sedan, parked across the road to the shop that was going to be robbed. They hadn’t seen when the robber went inside, but the screams that emitted soon after were impossible to miss. Both of them quickly got out of the car, the chilly night air nipping Merlin as he ran across the road, Arthur beside him. He had ditched the coat after the stint in the warehouse. He was just about to jump on the curb when the window of the shop burst in a shower of glass. A person crashed to the pavement, not immediately recognisable due the dim lighting of the place. They were in a back alley.

“Stop!” Arthur yelled from where he had fallen behind him. His voice came out strangely strangled. Merlin turned around to check if he was okay, and nearly tripped over a stray discarded bottle of booze. He turned back around, only to come face to face with the person he had hoped to see again, just not so soon.

Freya.

In the next second, Arthur’s odd behaviour started to make sense. He hadn’t been tired. He had been  _ resigned.  _

He knew that it was Freya who was going to commit the crime, and he hadn’t told him.

Merlin stumbled to a stop, gaping at the figure in front of him. She was dressed in a stereotypical robber outfit, albeit a little more fashionable. It was a strapped black jumpsuit, paired with an oversized black denim jacket and a thick brown leather belt which sat low on her hips. A small bag was dangling from it, which was probably where she had stashed the stolen gems. The only other thing on her was a gun in a holster attached to the belt. Her brown hair were tied in a ponytail, and were significantly shorter, Merlin noticed, than they were when he had met her before.

“Freya?” He stuttered out, his voice even more strangled than Arthur’s had been a few moments ago. He stumbled to a halt, confusion warring with anger in his chest.

For a second, he saw the same feelings reflecting on her face, but they vanished in the next second, being replaced by a smirk.

“Merlin!” She drawled, and Merlin nearly recoiled at how  _ wrong _ it sounded. Freya wasn’t supposed to be patronising, she was supposed to be soft and ground him when he was getting wrapped up in his lies, telling him what was real. This was just wrong. “How are you? Oh yes! Working for the enemy, are you now? I never expected this of you.”

Merlin was speechless. Because of the words or the circumstances, he did not know. Fortunately, Arthur filled in the silence. 

“Freya,” He started, “William Osborn, The Enigma is in custody,” Merlin couldn’t see him, but he imagined him to be holding up his hands in order to placate her. She was still armed.

He saw a flicker of surprise and fright shoot across her eyes, but it was gone as soon as it had come. She just shrugged. “So what?”

“We know you were hired by him to steal jewels,” Arthur told her. This time the emotion of fear stayed for longer, but only by a second.

“So what?” She did not deny the allegation.

There was a pause, during which Merlin believed Arthur had been taken by surprise at her response. He had probably expected her to give up when she heard the news. Maybe he had been counting on it.

“Freya, you should surrender,” Merlin blurted, his mouth refusing to consult with his brain before saying that. Freya turned incredulous eyes upon him. He was just as surprised at the words that had come out.

“What?” She chuckled darkly. “Like you? I am not a coward, Merlin, something you had taught me not to be. You are a fucking hypocrite, you know that?”

Merlin actually recoiled this time. He had heard harsher words in his life, but never by someone he loved. And the list wasn’t very long.

He was saved from responding by Freya, who continued speaking. “I have no idea why I am still here. In case you didn’t get the memo till now, we are  _ done _ , Merlin.” Saying that, she turned around and started to run away, leaving him frozen. Beside him, Arthur lunged to catch her, but didn’t manage to move more than a metre before a shot rang through the air. Merlin didn’t realise what was happening until Freya let out a strangled scream of pain, and a shower of blood erupted from her chest. Another shot went through her stomach, letting out another shower. Merlin dimly heard Arthur’s exclamation of surprise, his eyes trained on the fallen body in front of him, his feet stuck to the ground. Arthur fell to his knees beside her, holding two fingers to her neck to check her pulse. A few seconds later, he looked up at Merlin and slowly shook his head.

As he looked at Freya’s lifeless eyes staring up at the dark sky, and Merlin knew those eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am adding a few images of Merlin's apartment for reference. They have been taken from the show.  
> [ Composite Merlin's apartment ](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/20/37/ea/2037eaf6e15ee9dcf96ae970278d2431.jpg)


End file.
